The WannaBe Alchemist
by Black Kitsune Veela
Summary: HPFMAxover.HarryEd,HarryEnvy.YAOI. Harry has been sent through the Gate after trying to bring back Sirius using alchemy. But will his life on the Other Side be better than his life at Hogwarts?
1. Chapter 1

The Wanna-Be Alchemist

Prologue 

Darkness prevails over my vision as I try to clear away the bleariness of my eyes.

Where was I? Who am I?

My vision slowly clears and I find myself in an elaborate room with blood red walls, cream carpets and nameless paintings. I was in a bed, I could tell; taking in the silky texture of the white sheets, down pillows and black comforter.

I wince at the light stabbing at my retina, groaning.

"You're up." Drawled a sickeningly sweet voice that seemed to come from my left.

I shift slightly and my eyes fall upon an odd-looking woman.

Not beautiful but she wasn't exactly ugly either with blackish-gray hair in a chin-length bob, severe purple eyes glowing with malice disguised as kindness and concern, sickly pale skin and a very conservative burgundy gown of what seemed to be thick wool with a white collar and cuffs.

I blink in confusion. Who is this woman and why do I have the sudden urge to rip her head off?

"My name is Dante. Come, you've been sleep for a long time."

Small, ice-cold hands grasp my arm and pull me up into a sitting position with surprising strength for one so frail-looking. I notice that I am not wearing anything.

Dante drops folded cloth into my lap. "Here. You'll need some clothes before you can meet the others."

"Others?" I rasp out. My voice is rough and hoarse. Maybe I haven't talked in a while. She said I'd been asleep for a long time.

Dante didn't turn away when I stood up rather shakily and pulled on the black garments she had given me.

I now wore a loose tank top. The sleeves would give me some trouble, I could tell, by the way they kept slipping down my slim shoulders. The shirt revealed most of my stomach. From the feel of it, the fabric was a silk-like-cotton. The pants hung loosely on my hips, showing the dips in muscle where my legs met the rest of my body; but it covered what was needed and fell to mid-calf.

Dante forced me to sit back down as she tied more cloth around my feet and then my hands.

The cloth on my feet covered my heel, soles and the balls of my feet but left my toes bare. On my hands the cloth was soft but tight, starting at the crook of my elbow and ending at my knuckles. On my right glove, there was a space she had missed in the shape of a diamond.

"You and the others are Homunculi. You are artificially created humans. Come, take a look at yourself."

I pushed myself off the edge of the marshmallow-like bed and did as I was told, taking in my reflection.

Messy black hair fell into my eyes. The hair had a slightly red tint to it, but my eyes were what shocked me. The pupils slit like a cats', the iris was a nearly black red with a sharp, strawberry red around the pupil. My skin was a tan color that slightly shocked me. I was expecting myself to be pale. As I turn my head slightly, examining myself, I notice a tattoo on the left side of my neck. A red dragon devouring it's own tail; a six-pointed star lay nestled in the middle.

"Who…who am I, Dante?" I whispered, slightly afraid to know the answer. I felt that I wouldn't like whatever she had to say.

I felt her cold hands on my shoulders as she leered at my reflection. "Welcome home, Lust."


	2. Chapter One: The Gate

Chapter One: The Gate

Britain—2006

Candles burned low in the dark room, giving its' sole occupant just enough light to work by.

Glass beakers littered the hard stone floor, all filled with some type of powder or another.

A white button-up uniform shirt was rumpled and stained, the first few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to bunch at the elbows; black pants were in the same condition.

Slim fingers wiped sweat from the face of Harry Potter who was currently kneeling on the ground with his wand in hand. A red light was emitted from the stick, making engravings in the ground that smoked slightly as he left them to mark another scorch into the floor.

There was a dark, concentrated look in his emerald eyes as he finished adding rune-like symbols to the complex and intricate circular array drawn on the stone floor of the Room of Requirement. Harry picked himself off the ground and didn't bother dusting himself off before picking up the differently-sized beakers and dumping their contents into a large black cauldron that he had placed in the middle of the circle. As he poured everything into the cauldron, nearly soundless words could be heard from his mouth; the only sounds in the silent room. "Water, thirty-five liters. Carbon, twenty kilograms. Ammonia, four liters. Lime, 1.5 kilograms. Phosphorus, 800 grams. Salt, 250 grams. Saltpeter, 100 grams. Sulfur, eighty grams. Fluorine, 7.5 grams. Iron, five grams. Silicon, three grams."

After finishing this task, the teenage hero reached into the bag sitting beside him and pulled out a sheathed butterfly knife.

He flipped it open with practiced ease and eyed the thin blade, watching the firelight illuminating the sharp edge.

Harry inhaled and then exhaled, calming himself before placing the tip against the skin of his palm, dragging it across.

The teen winced, biting his lip to keep himself from crying out as the thin metal it into his flesh, ripping a thick line of red fluid through his palm.

Harry then pulled the knife away and held his palm over another beaker, allowing the blood to drip into the glass in thin ribbons, staining the sides of the clear container, slowly filling it.

After he'd filled up the beaker he picked up a handkerchief and wrapped it tightly around the wounded flesh. He picked up the beaker and dumped it into the large pot filled halfway with water and powdered chemicals. As he did this he snickered as he remembered what Wormtail had said the last time they'd met. "Bone of the father, unwillingly given. Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed. Blood of the foe, forcibly taken." He shook his head. He had to get his mind off the past and focus on the task at hand.

Harry paused to catch his breath, slapping his hands together. He slowly pulled them apart, then pressed them down hard on the inside edge of the circle.

Harry felt like an electric current was surging through him as the symbols and lines glowed, a soft wind whipping around him from the center of the circle.

Just as suddenly as his mind began to think it would work, the white light burned a bloody red and the wind picked up until a tornado had formed around the circle.

Harry gasped and jumped back, staring at the wind and light surrounding him, tearing at his skin.

He felt his heart tighten and his lungs freeze as though someone was trying to crush them.

_What's…happening? _He thought groggily before he collapsed, vision fading to black.

**Ah, another one, eh? You humans are so entertaining. **

Harry blinked, suddenly finding awake. He could breathe again. Where was he?

Harry pushed himself up onto his knees only to fall back on his butt. "What the hell?!"

Before Harry was a partially see-through figure.

It had a tan right arm and left leg along with a wide mouth filled with shark-like teeth.

**I, foolish human, am the embodiment of the Gate. **

Harry stared. "The…Gate?" _Teacher told me about the Gate! Damn it looks creepy. _

True, the large door behind the 'it' was huge and creepy. It seemed to be decorated by a sun with its' rays spreading out in jagged lines over the gritty-looking stone.

**You were stupid enough to commit a human transmutation. That's forbidden, y'know? **It giggled, obviously enjoying itself. **Now you have to pay the price. Since you're male… **It hummed thoughtfully, bending down to sit cross-legged in front of the teen.

Harry felt a scream rip through his throat as pain seared in his left arm and right leg.

Harry looked down to find both missing. His scream froze in his throat as shock overtook his mind.

**Aaaaaand…**It half-sang, spreading its' arms out wide and standing on its' new leg. **You'll be forced into the Gate now, have fun; buh-bye. **

Harry didn't say a word as the Gate opened to reveal the black void filled with staring eyes. Black hands stretched out, grabbing him and yanking him into the timeless black hole.

Lights and images flashed before his eyes, filling his head until he blacked out, the last image his eyes noticed was a gray sky and a tree.

Equivalent exchange…those who fly too close to the sun learn that nothing is worth the price of a single human soul.


	3. Chapter Two: The NeverEnding Dream

Chapter Two: Never-Ending Dream

//Harry's Dream//

Harry winced as a sharp tap connected with his skull, via a ruler held by the frail and surprisingly strong hand of his teacher.

Nicholas Flamel, age 287, sighed in exasperation. "Okay Harry, one more time. What is the first law of equivalent exchange?"

"Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost." Harry recited correctly.

Flamel gave a satisfied smile.

After his incident with the Philosopher's Stone, Harry had started to research how it was made.

Soon enough, he'd run across frequent mentioning of a science called Alchemy. He asked Dumbledore about it and expressed his interest in learning it.

Dumbledore had reasoned that alchemy might help Harry during the battle with Voldemort, and so contacted Nicholas Flamel.

Flamel had been more than eager to teach Harry anything he could.

Harry kept up with his studies (with the help of Hermione), Quidditch and the DA while taking his alchemy classes every night for six years. But on New Year's night of Harry's 6th year, Flamel died.

In his will, Flamel left Harry a medium-sized trunk of items that no one knew about besides Harry.

Harry had found a notebook, a necklace, and a red stone. The notebook was actually a hand-written manual of 'Making a Philosopher's Stone For Dummies: Parts 1 and 2'. The necklace was pure silver, the chain slightly thick and the pendant on the end was of a cross with a snake wrapped around it. A note attached to it said it was called the Grande Arcanum. The red stone nearly gave Harry an early cardiac arrest. A smooth, oval-shaped and glistening blood red stone hung on a key chain. The Philosopher's Stone…

Harry swore on Flamel's grave that he would never use the Stone, he would be its' protector. It's first and last.

Harry had never removed the stone from his person. It was always in a pocket, the chain attached to his belt.

And, as with all stories, we have our heroine try something incredibly stupid. Human Transmutation.

//Dream End//

..:..::Dublith—Amestris 1942::..:..

"Harry! Harry, it's time to wake up!"

Harry groaned, burying his face into a pillow, wanting to stay in the warm cocoon of sheets and blankets he was encased in.

"Harry, wake up!" a pillow hit the boy in the head and he finally opened his eyes, trying to blink away the sleep that still plagued him.

"Mmmm…what?" he mumbled, trying to figure out why something didn't feel exactly kosher.

"It's time to wake up, sleepy head. I swear, you're worse than your father." A female voice sighed, feminine hands on slim hips. Long red hair was held up in a messy ponytail, wearing a simple brown dress and a white apron without shoes. Familiar green eyes stared at him from a kind and pretty face.

Wait…she looked like his mother….Wait WHAT?!

Harry shot up on his bed, staring in shock. "M-Mum?"

Lily tilted her head. "Yes dear? You look so shocked. What is it? Did you have a bad dream again?" She came over and sat on the side of his bed, petting his hair and kissing his forehead. "It's alright, dear. You know that nightmares can't hurt you. They'll only cause you pain if you think about them too much during the day time." She smiled brightly and stood up. "Now get dressed and come downstairs for breakfast, your father wants some help around the shop today." With that she was gone.

Harry stared in shock at the place where his mother used to be. Was this a dream? No, the kiss had felt all too real, as had her hands. They had been warm and soft, the hands he remembered that would pet his hair when he would cry in the middle of the night and awaken his parents from their sleep when he was a baby.

Then it hit him. He had tried to bring Sirius back and he had ended up at the Gate. The Gate had taken something from him and then sent him through the Gate.

But where was he? Why wasn't he dead?

He slowly got up from his bed, looking around the room around him.

The walls were painted a warm blood red with a cream carpet that felt soft and thick under his bare feet. Portraits decorated the walls with still frame photographs usually having to do with himself or his parents…there were even a few people he didn't know and couldn't place here and there in the frames. A cherry wood dresser and bedside table decorated the room as it's only other occupants besides the bed.

A mirror stood against the wall by the door and Harry took a deep breath before walking over to the shiny contraption and looked into his own reflection.

He looked about the same as he had before. His hair was still short and messy, hanging into his eyes. He was still wearing his glasses and he wore a sleeveless nightshirt that came down to his ankles to reveal his arms and bare feet.

He stared in shock at his arm and leg. His right arm and left leg were made of metal! How the hell had that happened? What had happened while he was asleep? Had these become attached when he went through the gate or were these some sort of illusion?

He ran his hand up and down the cool metal, feeling the sharp edges and holes thoroughly before he sighed. Nope. They were real. But if all of this was real then where was he? Why was his mom alive?

Harry shook his head. He would have to figure all of this out eventually, no matter how long it took him.

But for now he might as well enjoy the dream until it ended.

Harry gave a small smile and opened up the chest of drawers to see all of the drawers were full of clothing that his mother had to have folded and put in there herself. That explained the neat order everything was in.

He picked out a black tank top and a pair of black slacks, pulling them on and heading down a hallway lined with white walls covered in photographs and paintings.

The thick, heavenly smell of eggs and oatmeal his nose and he carefully walked into a stocked kitchen that was about the size of his room back at the Dursley's with a small table that held three chairs and the essentials of a kitchen.

But everything was old-fashioned…or new as it may be in this dream of his. If he was even dreaming.

A man sat at the table, making Harry stare. Messy black hair, hazel-brown eyes and glasses. He wore a pair of suspenders with a coat over a white shirt and black slacks with the shirt tucked in, unlike Harry's.

The man put down the paper with a wide smile. "Morning kiddo! Sleep well?"

It was James Potter. His father…Alive and smiling at him as if this were a normal everyday occurrence.

"Kiddo, you alright? You look a little pale. Do we need to take you down the street?"

Harry shook his head. "N…No. I'm fine…dad." How long had he waited to say the word 'dad' to his father's face? To see his father smile?

"Well then sit down, munchkin. Your oatmeal is getting cold."

Harry quickly sat down, seeing his mother set down a glass of milk in front of him and kiss the top of his messy head.

He began eating, savoring the taste of the cinnamon and cream in the oatmeal.

His mother and father chatted back and forth across the table, holding hands every once in a while and sharing a kiss on the cheek with Harry or each other.

If this was a dream, Harry never wanted to wake up.

A/N: Well, there's the third chapter. Hope you all enjoyed it. I'm sorry it took this long. I have this story pre-written but it was all wrong information-wise so I had to edit it. Of course I have to type this all as I go since it's all in a friggin' notebook that is suffering water damage.


End file.
